Harry Potter 1. Lesson 1

Usual Disclaimer applies. I am also looking for a beta, if anybody is at all interested…

Anyway hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 1

The study was simply designed. No ostentation, no decadent sconces or gilded eaves. Only the deep red brown of gleaming mahogany lined the shelves. The armchairs were hardly more decorative- only bearing the simple stamp of elegance and grace. The same could be said of their occupants.

Father and son faced each other across the study floor, each ensconced in their respective corner.

"You made headboy."

It was a statement that didn't beg reply so Draco didn't respond. He'd learned long ago to be as laconic as possible where his father was concerned.

"As expected," Lucius added sharply in case there was any doubt.

Draco nodded.

His father was studying him again, fascination greedy in his eyes. Almost a mirror reflection of Malfoy senior, and with a coldness to match- Draco's lips curved. To form a human being of flesh and blood and sculpt them carefully, burning away all the flaws and leaving only perfection- that was genius. But there was always a price. Always.

"You're good Draco. But not better than me. Don't ever forget that," his father said slowly, the subtle threat as loud as a gong in the tomb quiet room.

There were very little sins the Malfoy's hadn't committed in centuries past, and parricide had been a particular favorite. The irony was too delicious to ignore- in a family that had wielded power for centuries the greatest threat always lay in their own bloodlines. It made for precious few leaders – but those that survived the culling. Ah.

"One can never best their master," Draco said acquiescing. He put his fluted glass down and stood up. "And I have learned everything from you."

Before he left however he turned at the door, and said to the old old man by the fire, "How did they say grandfather died?"

An empty grey gaze met his.

He shut the study door behind him, and walked away.

His first lesson had taken place in that study.

**

* * *

**

**Lesson 1**

_Hide your purpose. The passions are the windows of the soul. And practical wisdom calls for acting. He hazards defeat who plays with cards exposed. Put the defence of caution against the offense of the adversary; against the eye of the lynx, the ink of the cuttlefish. Even our wishes must not be voiced, so that they may not be met, by the one to deny them, or by another to satisfy them. – Balthasar Gracian "The Art of Worldly Wisdom"_

This perhaps had been the most ingrained lesson he thought looking back. His father had been particularly ingenious with this one he remembered idly as he casually played with the wand rolling it over his fingers and under. Deft nimble fingers. How old had he been? Eight perhaps? Or was it nine? It seemed so many years ago.

"Before an enemy emotion destroys you completely and utterly. You must be careful enough to mask all intentions such that they cannot either deny or satisfy them. As soon as they can make you feel, or believe that you feel they control you. Control leads to a relinquishing of power. A loss in power is defeat. Never allow an enemy to see your purpose or unsettle you. Do you understand?"

"Yes father" he said hesitantly, his brow scrunched as he sat in the high chair, his feet not quite touching the ground. He didn't really but he understood on some level that he should say yes. He fidgeted with his tie under his father's stare.

"No, no I don't think you do," and he noticed the frostiness in his father's voice. Lucius quickly took steps to the study door, and opening it called loudly for Narcissa. Draco came up and out of his chair. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

He heard his mother's obedient light footsteps before he saw her- she looked bewildered as his father, clutching her by the elbow, took her to the middle of the room. Leaving her standing there he went and picked up his cane which he had left standing by the desk. It was a snakehead – the silver etchings glinting like daggers in the light. Without a word he walked back to the center of the room and faced his son. They locked gazes and seconds went by.

"Do you understand?" Silky now and infinitely more dangerous.

"Yes. Yes." Draco said, his voice stronger but he couldn't hide the note of desperation now.

He didn't even have time to breathe before his father drew his arm back and swung, the snakehead cane glittering like daggers in the son before cracking loudly against Narcissa Malfoy's head. She slammed against the bookshelves and fell slowly towards the ground, blood pooling around her. Her mouth opened and he saw her tongue slick with blood undulating, reaching up to the cavern of her mouth as if trying to form speech. But no sound emerged.

Shock held him still for a moment before he leaped forward, only to find, horrified, that he couldn't move. "Papa no," he said his cheeks wet.

"Please papa you hurt mama she's sick, she's bleeding. look papa look," he said frantically his words tripping over themselves, "please I understand I understand just please help mama."

He said begging

"You'll say anything to save her?" Lucius said calmly.

"Yes yes anything just stop papa," he said his soul wrenching on the last word.

Smiling at him Lucius lifted his wand and whispered, almost lovingly:

_Crucio_.

Two syllables. Six letters. And just hearing it was enough to freeze his heart because he heard the screams. Thousands of piercing screams as if wailing – they filled the room and he wanted to cover his ears because they were begging _him_ to make it stop. Screaming to make it stop. And then one rose above the rest ringing clearly like a bell.

She was twisting her body flailing limply like a ragdoll's the arms being thrashed about as if children had seized each limb and were shaking them. Her head was moving side to side and her eyes were glazed and dead, as if she'd already passed the vale of suffering.

"You'll say anything," his father whispered dangerously. He took a step closer toward his only son, his only heir, "Will you do anything?"

He swallowed hard, and the Malfoy instinct came strong to the fore. He didn't glance at his mother as he shook his head, his shoulders wracked with dry sobs.

"Say it boy."

He swallowed again, "N-n."

He shook his head and tried again begging his mouth to work, "N-n. N-n-o…"

He couldn't be sick, he couldn't be sick, he _mustn't_ be sick.

"Make me believe it boy." His father said again harshly, "Or we'll start all over again."

"No." He said his voice barely a whisper – but he held his father's gaze, not letting go. Not once.

His father shrugged. And he raised his arm once again, wand pointed at a now still Narcissa Malfoy.

And that's when young Draco knew what it meant to hate. To well and truly hate.

And he pulled his strength from that hate which bubbled blackly in his stomach, which pushed against the skin of his body, and jaw clenched he stared hard at his father, "No," he said in the same hushed voice. But it was different now.

And the elegant hand that had been poised as delicately as a conductor's paused in mid-flight, and then dropped.

Draco found he could move and before he could rush to his mother she disappeared.

"Where did you put mama," he said calmly shoulders not shaking anymore.

"Your learning- good." His father said, "She's upstairs still reading. You didn't think I would really harm my wife now did you?" There was an ugly little smile playing on his lips as he looked at Draco.

Draco didn't say anything.

"Simulacra," Lucius said exasperated, "Really what are they teaching you in school? You can tell by just looking at the eyes. You cannot fake eyes."

"I'll remember that."

His father looked at him sharply – trying to discern if there was effrontery in the remark, "We will continue next time. I have an appointment I must keep."

As he was about to leave he turned back to look at Draco who had remained standing stilly though he was no longer bound, "Do you understand now?"

Grey met grey and only the birds could be heard on that clear blue day.

"Yes."

You are the enemy.

* * *

Six years in Ravenclaw – neither the bravest house nor the most popular. Nor the wisest for that matter she thought shrugging. 

But she'd liked the arrangement. After all she'd chosen it herself – how old had she been then she mused?

12? No 13 maybe. She'd stopped counting the years in the orphanage. Time had passed…differently. And she'd been older than the others.

Four houses but only two that seemed to matter. It had taken her a few more years to ponder why the situation was as it stood. Why such antagonism was allowed to foster. She looked up at the high table and the professors seated there. They were all gathered for the Sorting. Her brow crinkled in distaste at the word. The first years filing in were too young to understand that the Sorting was what you made of it – was your choice and yours alone.

She remembered when her name had been announced – ringing like the fall of a hammer in an empty smithy.

Rivlen, Khamsin.

The school accepted few charity cases and when the letter came for her the nurse scoffed and tossed it away. That hadn't gone over well- they'd started growing on the walls.

She'd packed her bag and came quietly. Reading as much as she could. The old adage had held true particularly for Hogwarts- knowledge was power. She didn't want power though – she simply wanted none to have power over her.

She recalled the hundreds of faces peering, curiosity bright in their gazes as they stared at the new first years. There was scattered cheering when each house received a new student. None really paid much attention when she stood up – only Dumbledore smiled at her. She didn't smile back. As she slipped the hat over her head, all the noises in the hall were drowned and she was left in complete silence.

_Well well well. What have we here?_

Ravenclaw please.

_Ravenclaw? Ha. No you're not Ravenclaw- Slytherin. There's your house- you could have power in Slytherin. Yes your type would do well –_

I don't want power. Ravenclaw please.

_Then Gryffindor for you – you could lead in Gryff-. No-no. You don't want to lead either. Are you sure? You could grow well and be happy in Gryffindor._

She shook her head in irritation.

No. Ravenclaw.

The hat was silent. She kept her hands folded neatly across her lap and waited patiently.

_Why?_

She idly wondered at the question.

Doesn't matter. Give me what I want.

It hesitated for a split more second before bellowing Ravenclaw. She plucked the hat from her head and made her way to the table. She received a few welcomes and congratulations. A few stared, wondering perhaps what had taken so long. But they looked away soon enough when they saw her, forgetting what it was they had thought unusual in the first place.

The years had passed as she'd wished them to. Quietly.

She'd made friends in her own way- and they'd accepted her various idiosyncracies- her quiet habits, and strange ideas. They teased her goodnaturedly and she accepted it because she liked them. They were good people and for a long while she'd forgotten what it was like to be that innocent.

It was now her sixth year and the sun shone fiercely on the long green lawn. She held a breath and blew it out, disappointed not to see it turn frosty in the cool autumn air.

"Rivlen – ten o'clock tomorrow night CT meeting- don't forget," Julia called out to her, loud and unapologetic. She was standing at the edge of the grass grinning. She had changed her hair again – keeping it fashionably short now- blond and pixie. Rivlen let her lips curve as she remembered the first time they'd met.

_Middle of first year and she still couldn't keep track of all the passageways. They kept changing she thought furiously, as she turned right._

_"You're going the wrong way," chirped a voice behind her._

_She turned to glare at the offender. Smirking blue eyes peered at her over small glasses. The chit was nearly dwarfed by her robes._

_"Really?" She said, her voice clipped._

_The girl's smile grew and she gave a little laugh._

_Rivlen frowned._

_"I knew you'd be like this I knew it! Just like out of a book!" she said with immense satisfaction._

_One eyebrow rose in calculated disdain. That was one Rivlen didn't hear everyday._

_"Sorry I'm being rude. You're in all my classes that's how I knew- you wanted potions right? You had to turn left about two hallways ago."_

_The look on her face must have been explanatory because the girl hurried on._

_"Yeah I know- what am I doing here if I'm supposed to be in potions. Well I just had so much fun following you around. You were so lost. At first I thought you weren't and I followed you because I thought you had some secret…some secret," she frowned and pursed her lips, "oh yes that's the word – assignation. I thought you had a secret assignation. But then I knew you were lost cause you kept going in circles."_

_"And what if I kept going in circles because I was trying to lose you in order to keep my secret assignation?" She responded in a low serious voice._

_That stopped her._

_"Oh. I hadn't thought of that. Drat," she said muttering angrily to herself something about Sherlock Holmes._

_Rivlen shook her head ruefully – she was too amused to be angry._

_"Come on kid – we've got an angry professor waiting to take off house points."_

_She had just about walked past her when a skinny hand shot in her path. It was slightly dirty, smudged around the wrist. Rivlen followed the hand all the way up to the imperturbably cheerful girl with the smile that threatened to swallow her face._

_"I like you. The name is Bellow. Julia Bellow," she said debonairly her head cocked to one side._

_She took the hand offered and shook it gingerly._

_"Rivlen."_

_"That's it?"_

_She stared hard at the girl and when Julia didn't back down she grudgingly told her. At least the girl had balls._

_"Khamsin Rivlen. Now can we go to class Bellow?" she said stressing the last word only slightly._

_The girl nodded and they both started walking. __They had reached Snape's door when Julia turned to her suddenly and said, "Interesting. Khamsin. That's Arabic. The fifty."_

She shook her head still amused, and curiously attached five years later.

"Better be there," Julia bellowed as she walked away, her voice almost warbling in the wind.

Rivlen turned her face back to the sun and smiled widely. It was going to be a glorious year.

The topic of conversation the next morning was familiar.

"We don't have men here sweetheart. We have turnips disguised as boys," Maeve said dramatically, waving her fork in the air.

"Turnips huh- Bad news that," Julia said.

They all waited.

"I ended it," Maeve said finally, disgruntled.

They still waited.

"He wanted to wait- can you believe it? He wanted to wait! I was down to my knickers, bare chested moaning enthusiastically in his arms and then he says, 'I think that's all we can handle for tonight'" She said hissing at this point.

"That's all we can handle? When did we decide that was all we could handle. I was choo-chooing merrily along- do you know what that does to a woman? To just stop like that?!"

Julia shook her head, rapt as she stared at Maeve. Maeve often had people staring at her raptly. The reason depended on the sex of the person in question.

"When did men decide they wanted to wait? Did I miss some sort of no premarital sex campaign?"

"Maybe its when they became turnips" Julia suggested innocently swallowing a spoonful of rice pudding, "Rivlen don't eat the potatoes. I've heard things about the potatoes."

Maeve continued still on a roll, "Apparently only the men I date are vegetables. I thought after the last one that finally I'd hit cocksure gold with Robert 'I'm a badass' McKinsey. Nope. Wrong again- don't say it Rivlen. Don't even think it."

Rivlen smiled quietly – I told you so dancing merrily in her mind.

"You want a man," Julia said her voice hushed, "Then look to Slytherin house."

"I believe McKinsey was Slytherin" Rivlen said, eyeing her mashed potatoes suspiciously. Was it moving? Perhaps she needed to talk to the house elves…

"No most of Slytherin is filled with lazy little bastards – there are a several kind of people in this world Julia. Smart energetic people. Smart lazy people. Dumb lazy people. And Dumb energetic people. By far the latter is the most dangerous and Slytherin is populated with them. Take a look at Flint. A walking timebomb. Crabbe and Goyle would make Frankenstein jealous- true true- I wouldn't call them energetic either Julia but you have to admit they have an odd sort of inevitability when they do get moving. And there- fellow with the squinty eyes sitting next to the pug bitch- you can just see the brain cells frantically trying to start up- expect the obits anytime soon. And what about-"

"And what about him?" Julia said smirking, her fork pointing toward the entrance.

Rivlen shivered.

She would have said dangerous if it wouldn't have seemed a cliche understatement. Tall and lean with a face that would have made Desire weep for heaven on earth, Draco Malfoy was something else. The product of carefully bred genetic lines- it was impossible to miss the stamp of lineage on his brow. It was also difficult to imagine anyone else more suited to lead Slytherin.

His cap of hair shone almost white as he joined his fellow Slytherins.

"Now that is a man I'd love to sink my teeth into," Maeve said, not bothering to disguise the lust in her voice, "Can you imagine what he could do in bed?"

"He'd control you," Rivlen said absently. A man that good looking knew how to use it to his advantage.

"Honey he can control me all he wants- all I'm saying is he might want to put a silencing charm on the room. We just might bring the walls down," she said whistling. He looked over and she blew him a kiss.

Rivlen just sat and remembered.

_Only two weeks to go before school started and she still hadn't gotten all her books. A rather dismal start to her sixth year but necessary. She hadn't had time to take off work._

_And slowly she plodded up and down Diagon alley- buying her books and poring over other more interesting ones. One in particular had caught her eye, a small book of aphorisms. She hesitated for a long while before putting it down again._

_At the register, the wizened lady smiled at her and slipped her the book._

_Rivlen shook her head politely explaining it was too expensive._

_The lady smiled and slipped her the book anyway, gratis. Rivlen didn't know what to say, so she said nothing at all. And when she'd paid for her purchases she politely thanked the woman. And it was with a lighter step that she further explored the possibilities of one of the most magical places in the wizarding world._

_She only had one more place to visit, and it was with slight trepidation that she stood at the entrance of Knockturn alley. She'd noticed it first year, or at least noticed how people stayed far far away. And looking in she understood. She couldn't bring herself to step in though- and had walked away. But she'd made a promise to herself that come sixth year, when she was old enough and big enough, she would walk its length._

_And now she was in her sixth year and she hadn't forgotten that promise._

_Cutthroats and pirate alleys came to mind as she looked at it- nothing had changed. It was still damp and dark, with heavy mist curling about the grimy stones. And the sun still shied away she thought frowning._

_Screwing her courage she stepped in and walked at a moderate pace. She didn't want to attract attention after all. And they had no call to harm her. Wrapping the robes around her tighter she walked all the way to the end and touched the back wall. She smiled as she felt the rough stone under her hands. Halfway done._

_She saw faces at the windows, regarding her curiously- shadowed worried faces. Her heartbeat quickened and she focused on the constant plodding of her steps. She could see Diagon Alley again at least._

_"A Ravenclaw?" A voice said in disgust behind her._

_There were more than one she thought before turning, shoulders squared and chin up._

_She raised one eyebrow in disdain at the group gathered in front of her. Slytherins all of them- students. Only students._

_"Well what are we going to do with you?" One of them said. They were a measly bunch, all looking as twisted as their personalities. The only one she recognized was Flint, seventh year Slytherin Captain._

_"You really don't have many options," she said politely, her voice echoing strongly in the narrow passage._

_"I don't have any money. You could hurt me I suppose. Although I can't imagine you would get much satisfaction from abusing a girl of my size. But then again I am sure you're a clever bunch and will come up with something absolutely horrible that I can't even fathom," she said honestly, her face the picture of earnestness._

_They were laughing by now- but they were unsure. They didn't know who was in control anymore, or how to approach her._

_She figured Flint would have to take the initiative, as the oldest and most feared he had a reputation to uphold. He couldn't hurt her, of that she'd made sure. She'd left him only one option so she really wasn't surprised when he grabbed her book bag, and with studied care took out the books and slowly pulled them apart, cover from cover letting the now loose pages flutter down the alley, the wind curling about them and lifting them away. The book covers fell dully at her feet. She never took her eyes from his and he looked at her for two more beats before walking away- they laughed of course. But it was a hollow victory and they knew it._

_Was it worth it Rivlen? She glanced around at the damage and sighed._

_As she bent down to salvage what was left, footsteps to her right made her look up._

_Of course it had to be him she thought frozen as she stood up, consciously aware of her essential drabness. Perfect of face, feature, and form- with neither heart nor soul to match. Dorian Grey in the flesh._

_He wasn't looking at her, but rather at the book in his hands - the small book of aphorisms the woman had slipped her. Balthasar Gracian's The Art of Worldly Wisdom. The only book that had escaped Flint._

_When he looked at her it was all she could do not to shift under his gaze. Sin shouldn't look that good._

_He took his time perusing her, as if making sure he would remember her should their paths cross again. He looked down at the book, and then at her again- for a heartbeat she thought there might have been a flicker of amusement or astonishment in his eyes._

_When he spoke his voice flowed around her- and she shivered. Black velvet she thought, slightly husky and rough around the edges with a seductive promise of warmth. Ice burned hotter than fire she thought miserably._

_"That was a foolish thing to do. You could have begged for mercy and they might have left you alone," he said, his tone cultured and aristocratic with a distinct note of disdain._

_"Might."_

_"Yes. But you would have had more than one book to your name," he said tossing the slim volume at her._

_"And beggars can't be choosers," he added, deliberately insulting, as he raked his gaze over her robes._

_"Thy wit wants edge," she retorted humorlessly._

_"What were you doing here?" he asked sharply._

_"The scenery. I found it charming."_

_He gave a low laugh, clearly amused._

_It was by surprise that she found him suddenly too close, gripping her chin between steely fingers forcing her to look up at him. The angle was uncomfortable, designed she thought to emphasize the difference between them. His height, his weight. His eyes were like storm blasts off a quiet sea._

_He almost enveloped her, and goosebumps prickled her skin. Somebody's walked over her grave, she thought her breath catching as he looked at her lips his thumb coming so close to brushing across them. When his eyes caught hers again suggestion danced wickedly- alive like a candle flame._

_He bent close, closer, his lips moving past her cheek to brush warmly against her ear. He was so warm and she had to physically will herself to not tremble. Keep still, keep still she thought, a mantra over and over in her head._

_"You're wrong for Ravenclaw. But you chose on purpose didn't you?"_

_And then he was gone, without a backward glance, leaving her cold again._

_His touch lingered on her skin long after he'd left, and it took longer to calm her nerves._

_It wasn't until she looked down that she'd seen the small bag. Opening it gold galleons tumbled down into her open palm._

_Rebuying her books, she pocketed what was left putting it aside for a small fund. She couldn't have a debt to Malfoy over her head. She'd seen what he was capable of first hand._

* * *

Later that night they held a meeting of the CT club. Conspiracy Theories, for those who weren't in the know. So far the members totaled up to a grand number of five. Maeve had gone along pouting the whole way- her equivalent of throwing a tantrum. Rivlen had been amused, and chose to humor Julia, who of course had come up with the brilliant idea herself. 

"Julia why are we still doing this?" Maeve asked, fists on her hips.

She gesticulated wildly at the dorm room, cushions strewn across the floor.

"What are three gorgeous sixth year girls doing in a goddamn dorm room on a bloody Friday night?"

The other two CT members shifted uncomfortably and Rivlen felt sorry for them. Maeve had always been as intimidating as Julia was coddling. And she had an unhealthy tendency toward ciceronian oratory which had gone unchecked for years.

As Maeve gesticulated wildly Rivlen took the opportunity to look at the other two.

Little Natasha was little more than large eyes and hair. She couldn't speak up to save her soul, and always seemed determined to sink into whatever wall was behind her. Jo on the other hand was just as loud and just as boisterous as Julia. The two had taken too each other immediately.

"Do you know what we talked about last week?" Maeve continued now hitting her stride, "No no, please Jo let me. From Julia came the brilliant idea that the reason Hogwarts staircases shifted was because they were in fact sentient, and it was their craving for blood that made them want to send Hogwarts children to their death. She forgot to add that after they did this they made sure to salt their now brained victim in order to fulfill their iodine quotient," Maeve finished tossing her hair back.

Julia glared.

"You have something better that you think we could do?" She snapped.

Maeve sat down and smirked evilly, "Funny you should ask but yes. I do. Call me crazy but the idea came to me at lunch. I want us to break into the Slytherin common room tomorrow night," she said casually, as if announcing tea time at a breakfast club.

Shocked silence seemed an appropriate response.

"Alright. I figured this would be your response," she said rolling her eyes and tossing her hair back, "So its just going to be Rivlen and I. I am not going to ask any of you," She said gracefully.

Rivlen raised an eloquent eyebrow.

"Don't start. You owe me. You know you do. Last summer, you owe me."

"Have you lost your marbles woman? The SLYTHERIN common room? Why not Hufflepuff? You just want to see them naked don't you! What were you going to do? Sneak into the shower room?" Julia finally responded horrified.

"I am shocked-shocked that you would think me that base, think that I Maeve Villain would stoop that low like some-some sort of peeping tom," she said her chest heaving. Rivlen was the only one who could see the fingers crossed behind her back.

"Why?"

"Yeah. Ahem. Well. You two, hands over your ears – this is for adults only," she snapped at the two grumbling first years.

"What article of underwear does McKinsey have in his possession that he intends to threaten you with?" Julia asked rolling her eyes.

"Article of underwear," she sputtered, "well I never…you listen here, both of you, and especially you Julia I am just not that…I…thong. Black. Red bow on the back," she said with a snarl. "I don't want the little bastard parading it around like some sort of apeman conquering thing. He might to get back at me."

"For what?" Rivlen asked, already inwardly cringing.

"For calling him a ball-less, impotent, slob, with a dick so small I had to pull it out with tweezers."

"That's not so bad."

"In class."

"Ah."

"I hope his pecker withers off- not that there was much there to begin with granted but still-" Maeve grumbled darkly.

"How," Rivlen interrupted, "Can he prove the underwear is yours?"

Silence.

"Ahem. Well you see, it uh sort of has my um my name kinda on it or my signa-listen its really not important."

"Oh no," Julia said, almost crowing in triumph, "Oh no. I think this is very important. Do tell Maeve- what name?" Julia asked caustically.

"Its not important, really just childish- you don't need to know."

Rivlen crossed her arms and looked around, "No. No I think that we think that what you think isn't important really is important. So please, continue."

Jo and Natasha weren't even pretending to cover their ears anymore – both were gaping wide eyed.

Maeve mumbled something that none of them caught, except for Rivlen who tried very very hard not to laugh. Very very hard. Maeve looked at her in irritation as she doubled over holding her belly.

Maeve repeated herself.

"VANILLA VILLAIN??!!!" Julia screeched loud enough to shatter glass.

"Shhhh!!!"

"Next thing tomorrow I am calling St. Mungo's."

"Tell them her dogtags are on her underwear," Rivlen said helpfully, gasping now.

"Oh piss off," Maeve grumbled.

"What kind of woman puts her last name together with some sort of sexual-I don't know. I don't want to know why you picked it. No stop, sh stop. I don't want one more word of explanation. Nothing of the sort," Julia said fighting the giggles.

"Its an anagram," she said, "you're blowing it out of proportion. Rearrange the letters of Villain and you get Vanilla."

"I think your mother would be shocked-just shocked to know that her daughter was rearranging the letters of their proud last name as some sort of erotic stripper nickname," Julia said outright laughing at this point.

"Are you done?" she said coldly glaring at all of them as they rolled around laughing. Natasha was wheezing and the glasses slid of her nose as she hiccupped.

"Really Rivlen I thought better of you," Maeve said in disdain casually toeing her friend, "are you coming with me yea or nay?" She said. All heads turned to Rivlen.

For a woman who truly understood and valued the fruits of anonymity, this was a curious position for her to be in.

And one where there was no choice to be made. Honor and loyalty came above all else and as Maeve had pointed out unfortunately, Rivlen owed her. And Maeve was her friend.

Friend she thought.

She touched her fingers to her mouth as she smiled.

* * *

She went alone to Hogsmeade the next morning, content to be by herself for a while. It looked like a place out of a fairytale, she thought. It never ceased to amaze her. The cobblestone streets wound around everywhere, and carts with horses were constantly rattling over them, the clickity clack of the wheels blending into the overall hubbub- the teeming life of that town. She'd never seen a place more beautiful, or more alive. Between the cobblestones tufts of moss and grass grew, living emeralds tossed by a careless hand. It was times like these when a soft wind would blow in rustling the grass and unfurling the leaves of the tall elms overhead. The branches would sway too and fro and all the leaves would brush against each other – a soft sussuration of sound that she heard as a long weary sigh. The leaves were just turning that beautiful reddish gold, a color lit more splendidly in the twilight sun. Sometimes they would fall, tumbling down like feathers, and they would brush across the thatched roofs of Hogsmeade, curling around the house and always turning end over end. This was contentment she thought happy. This peace- the absolute absence of worry, and pain. Why she thought remembering that question posed to her so many years ago. Why? For this. For peace of mind. For forgetting, and for quiet. For hiding. 

Let memories be bygones she said chiding herself, and pulling her threadbare coat around her tighter. It was getting cold and she was late.

By the time she found the inn her friends were at, night had already fallen and the temperature had dropped steeply. She nearly moaned when the heat in the bar hit her.

"Rivlen where the hell have you been" Julia bellowed across the now shocked silent bar. Julia's voice when fully unleashed always did have a tendency to elicit surprise.

She walked over, motioning to the bartender for a butterbeer.

"Julia you might want yell louder – I don't think they heard you all the way over in the dungeons," Rivlen said dryly.

"Its always times like these that I remember her last name, and the reason for it," Maeve said.

Julia snorted, "We were waiting for you so hurry up we're all starved."

Rivlen didn't look at the menu shoved at her, and in a quiet voice said she'd already ordered a butterbeer and that would be enough to hold her for the evening.

Maeve and Julia both fell quiet.

"I could always lend you money.." Julia started but faltered under Rivlen's steadfast stare.

"How's helping Filch going?" Maeve asked with a brittle smile.

Quiet fell at the little table as Rivlen's side job was mentioned. It had galled Rivlen to ask Dumbledore for this favor and he'd agreed as she knew he would, setting her up with a little salary. There had been no pity in his voice and to date that was the one thing she counted in his favor.

"Pettiness doesn't become you Maeve," Rivlen returned quietly, sipping at her butterbeer. It was an aspect of their friendship that she'd come to accept- they'd always butted heads on any important personal decision either of them made. This decision had been particularly bruising.

_"You work for Filch?" Maeve said, her voice chilling for one so young. It had been second year, when Julia and Maeve both discovered quite by accident why detention no longer included helping Filch clean._

_"I work for Hogwarts," Rivlen retorted – it was semantics but the distinction had been important._

_"Is pureblood money not good enough for you then?"_

_"Maeve."_

_"And then not even bothering to tell us. Did you think we would ostracize you? Gods forbid we be seen with the cleaning help?" She continued acidly._

_"Don't you dare attach to me your own insecurities," Rivlen said finally her cool breaking._

_They were face to face at this point, Maeve standing two inches taller and they were both glaring._

_"This is ridiculous. What the hell is your problem?" Julia said, speaking to neither one exclusively._

_"You," she said pointing to Maeve as she shoved them apart, "Whats gotten into you? Cleaning help? Pureblood money? Have you gone mad? She could give a damn where your money comes from- she just wants to work for hers. Accept it and move on. She's never criticized you, never mentioned your mother, never even knew you were pureblood till a few months ago."_

_"And you," Julia turned rounding on Rivlen, "Is it difficult to understand that deliberately deceiving us for two years might make us the slightest bit upset? We're your friends – and we've never given you reason to doubt us. Accept that and move on. We're not going anywhere girlie."_

_"I didn't want you to know. Is it so difficult to understand that I might want to keep a few things to myself?" she said finally, her cool breaking- hot tears pooling in her eyes._

_"No. But we're your friends-your only family. And you're supposed to give us your trust. Don't we deserve that much Khamsin?"_

She had cried then- one of the few times she could recall breaking down.

The subject was dropped as awkwardly as it had been brought up. Money had always been a touchy subject with Rivlen – Maeve and Julia had been adamant at first, upset almost that she wouldn't accept their 'charity.' Maeve had been more upset- but that had to do with the history of the Villain family. Everyone had his or her cross to bear, pureblood or no- such was the cruel wisdom of life.

And so they ate in silence – a silence interspersed at times by periods of conversation where Maeve would say something lewd, Julia would say something loud, and Rivlen would simply remain laconic, enjoying the pleasant wash of conversation.

Neither Maeve nor Julia noticed him come in, they were to busy discussing various attributes of male anatomy. Even to Rivlen it seemed as if he'd suddenly materialized, fully formed from frost and fire. The black coat was tailored impeccably to his lean frame and he seemed impatient as he unbuttoned it. He was looking for someone.

Her eyes swept the bar curiously and returned to him. He'd ordered by now, but he was still standing at the exit. Nobody approached him, although a few girls tried to catch his eye. He was too cold tonight. One slim elegant hand reached up to brush a few flakes from the top of his coat.

He'd turned his back to her by now, and that is why she was caught off guard when, slowly, almost leisurely, he turned his head toward her- his eyes caught hers and held. He was across a room she thought face flushed, and it felt as if he was standing directly before her, grey eyes boring into hers, almost daring her to look away. He remembered. She dropped her eyes and turned- her breathing hurried now. She had a sudden childish wish to disappear into the ground.

Maeve was looking at her speculatively. Maeve had always been sharp.

"You've spoken to him haven't you," she said to Rivlen.

Rivlen stared at the scarred tabletop.

"Yeah," she said pathetically in response.

Julia stared at her openmouthed.

"Well?" Maeve prodded.

"Nothing much happened. I met him the same day the Slytherin boys destroyed my books. He left money behind. I took it, bought my books, and have been saving up since then to pay him back."

"That's it." Julia said disappointed, "that's all you're going to tell us?" she said incredulously.

"You met Draco bloody Malfoy, and all you can say is he dropped a few galleons?"

Rivlen shrugged uncomfortably and opened her mouth. And closed it. And opened her mouth again. And closed it again. She looked down at the lees in her mug. Maybe she needed another butterbeer.

"He makes me tremble," she said so quietly Maeve and Julia had to strain to hear her.

"Explain," Maeve asked eagerly leaning forward.

She swallowed nervously, "I've never had that before. All he needs to do is get close to me, and I start to tremble, all over as if I was cold, but all I can feel is warmth. His warmth," she said frowning as she rubbed her shoulders. She couldn't control it, she didn't like it at all.

"Fucking fantastic, there is some warmth under all that ice. I knew you'd find your clit some day." Maeve nearly screamed ecstatically. Leaning forward she gave Rivlen a conspiratorial wink, "I was going to put it more vulgarly than that but I've decided to spare your delicate sensibilities."

"Thank you." Rivlen replied dryly, quite sure half the tavern had heard her declaration.

"Maeve not everything is about sex," Julia said shocked, "this is serious. This is Draco Malfoy not…not some joe shmoe. She is trembling because he's evil."

"Not everything is about deatheaters," Maeve hissed, "Merlin on a stick you can't even take a piss without somebody pointing another one out. If we go by the rumors we should just bomb Slytherin House and get rid of the whole lot of them. She's just having a reaction to him. You wouldn't know Julia, because all your lovers are fictional."

Julia blushed. It was known that she'd been pining away for Sherlock Holmes for years.

"That's not fair," Julia began, outraged.

Maeve quirked an eyebrow.

"ok maybe a little. But there's nobody like him," she said plaintively.

Maeve rolled her eyes, "Of course not love. He's fic-tion-al."

"Anyways," Rivlen interrupted, "Whether I tremble or no, and for what reason is of no importance. I'm going to pay back my debt and we will never cross paths again."

Rivlen said with finality, determinedly picking up her mug only to remember belatedly that it was empty.

"Its too late for that," Maeve said almost smug.

Rivlen and Julia both looked at her.

"With that kind of man it isn't over until he says its over."

* * *

She supposed this was a good a time as any to approach him. She had the entire amount and after this, well they would be through. She never needed to think about him again. She glanced around to make sure he was alone. 

He watched her as she approached, his face revealing nothing.

She deposited the galleons in front of him, "Its all there. Thank you."

She turned to walk away.

"I don't want it."

He was smirking again she thought, irritation starting to nudge at her.

"Pity. That's none of my concern."

"Oh it is if this," he said, one hand waving in disdain at the small bag on the table, "is how you intend to write off your debt."

She was obvious in her silence.

"It is a debt," he said hands crossed in his lap.

She turned at that and looked at him hard, her eyes flinty, "Anyone else, and they would have told you to go to hell."

His eyes darkened as they regarded her.

"Oh that's right. I forgot who I was speaking too," she said knowing full well that he knew she had not forgotten.

"When you took the money, you accepted a favor," he continued, "One you knew you had to repay. You assumed that the form of repayment would be mere remuneration. You assumed wrong. Assumptions can be very dangerous little Ravenclaw."

Her jaw clenched and she forced back her anger. It wouldn't do for him to see her upset.

"I assumed nothing. You gave the money. I have given it back. There is nothing more between us."

"How long has it been? A month? Maybe a little more?" He said innocently.

"A month and three days to be precise."

"Ah."

He left it open to her. He was so sure of himself she thought.

"So for a month and three days Draco Malfoy wishes more than just mere remuneration. What is it?" she said disdainfully, "Some form of interest I suppose? You will be sadly disappointed to learn Monsieur that your mark has fallen far short of your usual prey. I am neither rich, nor well connected. I have nothing whatsoever to offer you. And there will be a limit. It was only a month and three days you will do well to remember that. There is a limit to my magnanimity."

"Everyone always has something to offer," he said, and something ugly surfaced in his eyes.

She sat down at the table, arms crossed regarding him steadily. This was a Malfoy she was dealing with- she mustn't forget that.

"Temper temper."

"The favor. What is it."

"You know I really haven't decided. Come back in a few days I might have something."

She stood up and gathered her things. So this is how he was going to play it. Her jaw tightened as she stared at the infuriatingly calm man at the table.

"No Malfoy. When you want that favor, _you_ will come to _me_. And then _I_ will decide whether or not it is too high a price or no. There is a debt of honor," she said stressing the word, "that I acknowledge, and I will play your game, but only to a certain extent and with certain rules. I will not be puppeteered."

She had her hand on the library door, and his mocking laughter following her as she exited slamming the door shut.

* * *

Author's note. 

Not really much to say. Would very much appreciate any helpful criticism. Thank you.


	2. Lesson 2

Chapter Two

He really had underestimated the talent in Ravenclaw.

She was quite an engaging creature. Fine large eyes set in a small pointed face. She should have looked like a doll, but didn't. That was the force of personality he supposed. And her height couldn't be dismissed. She was taller than average for a woman. No this one had quite a bit to offer despite her pleas otherwise. He had tried undressing her but his usually unfailing imagination had this time failed him spectacularly. He liked that about her too. He should have tired of mysteries by now. Or were they now his blood heritage?

_Everyone always has something to offer._

His words came back to him as he mused. That particular lesson had been his favorite. He would never forget the look on his father's face. How many children taught their father a lesson at seventeen?

_"Imperfect, unworthy and altogether useless," his father spat, in one of his rare moments of rage._

_The mudblood clerk had misplaced his order, and compounded insult to injury by treating Malfoy as a common customer and sending him to the back of the line. He hadn't recognized the Malfoy name and so Lucius had taken it personally- demanding the manager fire him. And of course the manager knew the house and signet of Malfoy._

_"Not useless," Draco said, more for the sake of being contradictory than anything else._

_"Useless. Scum, dirt," his father shot back his face twisting. He was recounting the afternoon's events in his mind again._

_"Everyone can be used father. I would think you would know that," he said calmly, his face a mask. He had taken several steps before he realized Lucius wasn't at his side. His father had stopped staring at him coldly._

_"Are you teaching me a lesson?" he asked, and Draco could hear the warning rattle in his voice._

_Draco walked up to him- he was taller than him now- "Why father I wouldn't dream of it. I was just saying that you in your infinite wisdom must surely know that even the most down trodden and desperate can be used."_

_His father snorted, "I teach you chess, and you choose to play checkers." And that was all he had to say on the subject. It was dropped and would have been forgotten if he hadn't seen that self-same clerk sitting sullenly in a bar later than night. Draco watched him nimbly lift the wallet off the unsuspecting burly guard. Whistling, the clerk had walked out and Draco followed. He bought him a beer and they talked for a long while, about issues mutual to them both._

_It was two weeks before the plan was implemented, before Lucius was accosted by a broken clerk who clutched Lucius' knees and begged him for mercy and forgiveness. It had been a very public place, and Malfoys did not like to be made the center of spectacles. Watching from the shadows he remembered being very amused by the fury on Lucius' face._

_Throwing the clerk off he apparated immediately._

_It was mere moments later before the now smiling man gave Draco an ornately carved brass key. Draco, returned the favor with a few galleons, and both parted ways. He floo'd his way back to Malfoy mansion to wait for his father.  
_

_He was waiting in the study when his father arrived. The study doors slammed against the wall nearly splitting. Father and heir faced each other again, but the ground had shifted._

_"Are you looking for this?" he said, the key rolling in his hand._

_He'd expected the blow that sent him reeling, and the blood in his mouth was a welcome tang. He sucked on his lip as he stood up and tossed his father the key._

_"Checkmate father."_

_It was a pleasure to see his father shake with rage._

_He turned his back and walked out, but before closing the study doors he turned toward the man still facing him, "Don't bother looking for him, because you won't find him."_

_It had been a moment headier than the finest wine. Of course his victory had been short lived. He'd underestimated Lucius. The folly of youth._

_It had been a month and the business had almost been forgotten when he'd found a wrapped box in his room. There was a card on the cover._

_ He had nimble fingers. Since you made use of them, I thought you should have them. Happy Birthday._

_ - Lucius_

He kept the note and buried the hand.

He remembered that lesson.

* * *

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, wizened fingers steepled under a wizened chin. His face was crumpled under the weight of memories Draco couldn't begin to imagine. The paintings behind him were still all eyes turned toward them as each sat, regarding the other. 

"Have you decided?" He said finally, his half moon glasses reflecting the dishwater sky.

"Yes."

Dumbledore nodded. His eyes were cast downward as he settled into his armchair, lost in thought. Fawkes was regarding him carefully. Draco idly wondered how a bird could give off the semblance of concern.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Dumbledore asked.

Draco smiled harshly. Concern? At this stage? "Your getting soft." There was a hint of derision.

Dumbledore only smile slightly in return, his lips quirked.

"I forget how young you are. And how old I am," he added ruefully, his voice a sigh.

He raised his head and Draco had to fight not to squirm under that now steely blue gaze. Gone was age, and daftness, lemondrops and insipid wit. He peeled Draco apart exquisitely layer by layer, opening the recesses of his mind as easily as if he were peeling apart boiled cabbage leaves. Or at least that's how it seemed to Draco, and Draco understand that that was all that was important. The semblance. And the promise of power.

The old codger across from him could have moved the world had he chosen.

"I hope I know what I am doing."

And Draco knew that that was as close as he would ever get to hearing Dumbledore admit the possibility of failure.

He closed the study room door and walked away. He had a meeting with another professor to keep.

* * *

It was one o'clock in the morning and Rivlen again wondered at the price of friendship. 5 years ago she would have scoffed at the idea that she would be wandering around like some cat burglar in black, scouring the dungeons of a wizarding school for the lair of the nastiest house in school. 

Maeve was relishing in this- Rivlen looked back at her.

"Don't you think war paint is going a little far?" she asked curiously.

"Against the wall," she hissed at Rivlen, "stay against the wall. And tiptoe!"

She tiptoed, her shadow looking like some manic ballerina in the moonlight. They made their way past the potions classroom, past several dungeons, and it was much to her suprise when they actually came upon the Slytherin door. And when Maeve stage whispered the password Rivlen didn't even bother to ask the name of the poor fool who'd given it to her.

When they entered both girls were pleased to note that nobody came out and tried to beat or even kill them. In fact it was rather pleasant. There were no heads hanging over the fireplace. Not even a coat of arms. A few faded green couches and a rather ragged silver banner made the Slytherin common room surprisingly normal.

"So this is where they plot the takeover of the school." Maeve said wryly.

"McKinsey's room. Where is it?"

"Over here. Wait, I'll be back."

Before Rivlen could say no, or wait, or even, lets take a moment here, Maeve was gone, vaulting over a banister, and doing karate rolls across the floor.

And so Rivlen found herself alone in the Slytherin Common Room. Now if asked before this moment, what she would have done if suddenly finding herself in the Slytherin Common Room, she would have come up with numerous, dry but nasty suggestions. Now, of course she found herself with little to do. In fact, truth be told, it was shabbier than Ravenclaw's. Humph. She was disappointed. To come expecting a dragon, and instead see a limp stuffed snake was slightly jarring. The doors on the second floor were more impressive though. She made her way up one of the staircases that flanked the common room. One in particular stood out- magnificently carved dark cherry wood. It was while examining that impressive door, with intricate arabesque carvings, that the Slytherin Common Room opened. She only had two simple seconds to reach over to the door's handle, open it, and slip in. Better one slytherin than a group.

No one was in the room. The bed lay untouched, and she knew, as surely as she knew she was going to kill Maeve, that the occupant of this room was about to walk in. She quickly crawled under the bed and waited. She didn't have to wait very long. A long swath of light quickly slid across the floor.

"Good night," was all she heard before the door shut again.

The boy made his way across the room, dropping his robes and tie on the way to the bathroom. She heard water running and then nothing for a long time. Was it a bath? She listened keenly. It was amazing how absolutely useless hearing was at times. She hadn't the foggiest idea what he was up to or why it was taking him, him, so long that she was in danger of falling asleep before escaping. She briefly considered making a run for it. Was he flossing his teeth? And then she heard an unmistakable sound. She wanted to bash her head into the plush carpeting. The effeminate half wit was using a bloody hair dryer.

Merlin's hairy ass.

The bathroom door opened and he flicked off the lights. She saw the white pads of his toes at the edge of the bed, black cotton pants covering half his feet before he rolled onto the bed and pulled the covers over him. Nice toes she thought abstractly. She didn't feel any springs creak over her. He tossed and turned a lot. Restless. It was a while before he became completely still. And his breath evened out.

Time to go. Inch by inch, so slowly as to not even wake a cockroach, she made her way from under the bed, and tried to stretch her aching, cramped limbs as quietly as possible. Blood rushed through and she almost swore as her legs tingled with prickly sensation. Crawling, she made her way across the carpet. She had just passed the mahogany bureau dresser when an amiably husky voice said, "Leaving so soon?"

She broke into a half-run/half-crawl and slammed herself against the door pulling frantically at the doorknob. Her heart sank to the bottom of her feet as she realized that it wasn't about to open.

"Its charmed."

Blood thundered like stampeding horses at her temples, and she felt a shiver seize her by the neck and skitter down her spine.

"I'm sorry."

"Really?" His tone was dryer this time. Harder.

She stepped towards the bed, not able to make out his form in the inky darkness. Her hand ran questingly along the dresser.

"Perhaps I should explain. My friend needed to acquire a certain item from one of your compatriots. I was regrettably forced to assist her. I ran into the first room I could find because the thought of trying to explain to a group of rather large Slytherins why I was in their common room was not one I relished. You, sir, have my sincerest apologies."

Silence. Her hand grasped a long tubular metal object, with ridged edges. If she could just knock him out, or disable him briefly she could make a run for it. But what if he raised a fuss and maeve was still in the house? And how could she see his head? She couldn't very well toss the object at the bed and hope it made contact... What if she killed him? "Charity case brutally kills student" flashed in front of her eyes.

The warm breath across the back of her neck was her only warning that he'd slipped behind her. And when cool hands grasped her wrists, hard, she dropped her weapon out of shock. Nobody could be that quiet she thought, her eyes wide. His breath was warm and rustled the hairs at her neck. She tried to turn around but he merely wrapped his arms around her waist, her wrists still tethered in his hands.

"You again," he said. His grip tightened fractionally, but he could have been handcuffing her for all that she would have noticed. The voice had finally registered through the fog that had stupered her brain, and an old cold calm settled her heart.

"How are you Draco?"

"Concern for my well being. I love women concerned for my well being."

The arms about her waist tightened and as he straightened his back, she was pulled up with him, her toes barely finding purchase on the floor. He started to move them both toward the bed.

"Draco, let me go."

He chuckled.

She let herself go limp, and her head fell forwards. The sudden weight that pulled him down led to him tightening his arms to get a better grip. Using this momentum, she added her own, and swung her head in a dangerous arc backwards. The blow glanced his cheek, he let go, and she dropped and rolled.

"Touch me again, and I'll hex you eight fucking ways to Sunday."

Her back was now at the door, and she tried the door handle again. Still locked.

She heard laughter, from the far right corner and she turned toward the sound, straining to see. Nothing. How could a room be so dark?

"You plant yourself in my room, bodily abuse me, and threaten to hex me," he said mockingly. "Maybe I should just call Snape."

He was moving. The sound kept shifting from right to left and it was coming closer. She crouched down, trying to listen to footsteps.

It was too late that she heard the rush at her side. He barreled into her and sent them both crashing into the bureau dresser, her shoulder painfully crumpling at the corner, and she saw starbursts from the pain in her head. She sent her nails clawing for his face but she only glanced his shoulder before he caught both wrists and squeezed again, but this time, he didn't stop. Tears forced themselves from the corner of her eyes and she felt air leave her lungs from the agony. Her gasps, and his harsh breathing was the only sound in that airless space. When he was sure she wasn't capable of moving much less harming him, he got up and turned on the lights. She curled her legs in and cradled her wrists- blood throbbed behind her eyes as she tried to breathe.

When he stood over her, imperiously angry, the only pleasure she could feel was in the redness blossoming across the left side of his face. That would be a handsome blue in the morning she thought vindictively.

"You are so small." He almost spat it out as he stared at her, half in disgust, half in amazement. The harshness of his tone was the only indication of their scuffle. Scuffle was the perfect word she thought majorly irritated. She was curled up, trying to think of icebergs and mind over body to will the pain away and his hair was mussed. "Which friend?"

She felt like cursing. Really cursing.

"No one you would know." There was spite in her tone.

He stood looking down at her for a moment, and she couldn't tell whether or not he was about to hit her. And the he smiled and crouched down. He touched her chin condescendingly and gave her head a shake.

"So spirited. Too spirited. Where's your wand? The one you were going to hex me with?" Vindictiveness curved his lips higher.

And that was when she had noticed the broken wand on the floor. And it took every ounce of effort, to maintain the control that she had built for years. She bit the inside of her cheeks so hard that she was sure her lips would be rouged.

"You and I are going to have a nice little chat right now."

As if that settled the matter he walked over to his bedstead, and flung himself into the plush black Victorian armchair. The leg ends were gargoyle claws.

She picked up her wand. It hadn't snapped completely. Some of the wood fibers were still interlocked. Or maybe she could just pray really really hard and in the morning she would realize that this was just an idiotic nightmare. The wind rattled the pine at Draco's window, and she snapped out of her day dream.

She stared at her handsome captor, and did her best to muster her most bored expression. With the blood in her temple pounding out a jackrabbit's run, it was difficult.

He smiled, and the tip of one canine peeked over his bottom lip.

"Let's be friends."

She felt the hairs along her arms rise. "Please stop, I'm susceptible to nightmares."

"Then lets talk about favors."

"Knock yourself out."

"Lets talk about how the favor you owed me previously, has now become a larger one."

"I actually meant what I said literally."

"Or it could be two favors. Smaller ones, but two nonetheless." His pose was now magnanimous.

"Are you trying to reassure me or yourself?" She was surprised at his flush.

"So you choose the latter?"

She made a show of thinking about it, and surreptitiously tried to massage feeling back into her wrists. "Better one big than two small I suppose."

He smiled again. But it was tighter this time. And when he walked over to her and crouched down, she could feel the cold wafting off his skin.

"You'd best be leaving now. Before I do something that not even Pomfrey can cure." The threat in his voice, and the whisper it was confided in belied his confidence. And although she had sworn not to, she found herself scrambling up and out of Malfoy's room faster than some might consider dignified.

* * *

The next day at breakfast proved to be a quiet affair. 

"I got it." Maeve said sitting her breakfast tray down.

Julia snorted. "I never had any doubt."

The next day at breakfast proved to be a quiet affair until Rivlen walked in.

She set her tray down. And then slid it to the side. Slowly.

"Did you get it?" She asked sweetly. Maeve would have moved backwards if she could have. A faintly perplexed expression marred her princess brow. "Yeah..."

"Oh good. I hope you got your thong. Because if you didn't get your thong, then that would be very very bad. Do you know what I got yesterday?"

Maeve shook her head shyly. Bellows was thinking furiously. Had she missed the clue already?

"I got a meeting with Draco Malfoy. While you were safely retrieving your panties,. I was having a little tete-a-tete with that cheery man yonder."

Draco had just walked in. Maeve and Bellows swiveled, looked, and swiveled back, horrified.

"Yes. I happened to get caught last night. In my effort to hide, Fortune smiled on me, and steered me to Malfoy's room. We talked after he manacled my wrists, bashed me against his bureau dresser, broke my wand, and claimed a bigger favor. It appears we both like it rough."

Meave's shoulders had already started to do the defensive hunch, and she stared in silent fascination at the striations on the table.

"Do you know what that means Maeve," Rivlen asked, her eyes bright- "that means that I am going to have to do something very fucking big for Mr. Draco Malfoy, if I don't want to get expelled for playing Peeping Tom under the head boy's bed."

Maeve started to shrink, and Julia's eyes were bright also, but more from suppressed laughter than anything else.

"Do you think this is funny Julia?"

Silence.

"I am the one that made the decision to be friends with you both." she said pulling her tray sharply toward her, "I accept the consequences of that friendship. Gladly, I might add," she said, viciously spreading jam on her toast, and stabbing the cheese. She took a deep breath, and took a delicate bite out of her sandwich.

Maeve smiled tentatively. Julia grinned.

"But. Should you decide, Maeve, to do this again, then. Well, then we are going to have...problems."

And that was that. She ate her toast in quiet, and nodded off Maeve's quiet apology.

"So. What was it like in his room."

"I didn't know it was his until afterwards. So I didn't look at things too closely. Vantage point from the bed can be limited. He had nice furniture, wears black silk pajamas, uses a hair dryer, and... yeah I think thats about it."

"That's poor detective work Sin. That's poor. You were in Malfoy's room. What type of carpet did he have? What was the fiber content?" She even flipped open a notebook that she took to carrying on the inside of her robe.

"Bellows. I wasn't under the impression that we were here to investigate or detect anything about Malfoy. I was under the impression that we were trying to get a scrappy piece of trophy cloth from an ex-boy-toy."

Maeve winced but held her tongue.

"Still you know the rumors. It wouldn't hurt to get conclusive proof that he is a dangerous doubledealing SOB."

"Doubledealing with who? With deatheaters? Why should we be concerned with deatheaters?"

The cheese was unusually good today. Was it gouda? She never could tell. Maybe Emmenthal...

"Look at Potter and Co. They are always doing incredibly brave and adventurous things. And they get housepoints for their school. Why can't we show everyone that Gryffindors aren't the only ones worth a damn."

"Since when did this turn into a housepride rally? You could give a shit about housepoints Maeve."

"They are doing something Rivlen. They are making a difference."

"Oh so this is about making a difference Bellows. Putting our name into Witch Weekly's Who's who list? There are things we probably don't know about Potter and Co. Things that most likely concern a good number of Hogwarts professors. You think they did everything without help? Dumbledore is many things, but a moron isn't one of them. He wouldn't leave the saving of the school to children who have one piss drop's worth of magic, even if You're the boy who will never kick the bucket. Dumbledore must have a goal in mind. I can't imagine him, waving his hands and saying 'save me save me'. It doesn't go. They are being let to save the school for whatever reason. We were not approached for the position."

"Ok. You are content to be on the sidelines. Just say that and get it over with."

"I am content to be on the sidelines."

"What is itching you?" Maeve finally asked.

Rivlen put down her knife and fork. Her heart was beating quickly.

"You don't know how to be scared. Both of you. And that's what scares me. Fear keeps you alive, and fear keeps your edges sharp. Without it, you can't tell danger even if it's right in front of your face. Getting involved with deatheaters? Trying to find them? You should both be very very afraid, and if you were smart you wouldn't even mention it. Do you know what they do to people? Really know? You think a Hogwart's badge will get you out of it? Sorry didn't mean to see you do the whole rape and pillage thing, I am just going to pop on over back to my dorm room?!"

The rest of breakfast was spent quietly. Uncharacteristic for the normally enthusiastic trio.

* * *

She walked in cautiously- flattening herself against the wall. She'd waited till they all came out but she wasn't taking chances. 

She'd never been in a men's locker room before. That it was Slytherin's was a fact she chose to ignore at the moment. She looked around curiously. It was a men's room that was for sure – black floors and dark green lockers were the only color in the otherwise Spartan room.

She walked noiseless past the rows until she located Malfoy.

He was bare chested again, and a towel hung loosely around his neck. He was resting his elbows on his knees.

She crossed over to him and waited. She supposed he hadn't taken his loss well. Foolish game anyhow she thought hands neatly folded.

"Sit down Rivlen."

"Good game huh?"

His head tilted in her direction. It inspired her to further heights.

"God that Harry. Wow. What a natural." She did her best groupie imitation, and watched with pleasure as darkness creased his forehead. It felt so good to twist the knife sometimes.

"Sit down Rivlen."

She sat.

"I need this delivered," he said sliding an envelope her way. An innocuous rectangular looking thing.

"4 o'clock tonight at the edge of the Forbidden forest, someone will be waiting. He will show you a signet- A man in flames – Give it to him."

Of all the things she might have expected, this certainly wasn't it.

"You have got to be kidding me."

His eyes, his cold, grey, unamused eyes assured her that no, no he wasn't kidding.

"That's one hell of a favor Draco. No way. That goes above and beyond."

"You will do it." There wasn't even a hint of threat in his tone. He sounded bored.

And she steamed. Because she knew that he was right. Because he could expel her. And even the Forest, with whatever was in the forest, was better than expulsion.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me the contents."

"Your suppositions are always remarkably prophetic."

"Will this manage to get me a) assaulted, b) raped, c) killed, or d) all of the above?"

"No."

"Fantastic. Remind me why I trust you?"

A wolfish smile was her only response. It actually made him look approachable. She looked away.

"If I do this – my debt is cancelled?"

"Yes."

"And we will never cross paths again?"

His lips quirked at that.

"If that's what you want" he said turning to her with half lidded eyes, his voice dropping to a husky baritone.

"Yes," she responded firmly.

He shrugged and turned away. He did that too easily. Seduction had never been her game of choice.

"One more thing," she said stung, "are the people I am giving this to deatheaters?"

He turned and smiled. A genuine smile, "I have no idea. Maybe."

His turn.

"What are you doing in Ravenclaw?"

"Ask the hat."

"That's poor. I respect your intelligence- don't underestimate mine."

She smiled, "You're right. Let me amend my answer. I have no idea."

"It put you in Slytherin first." He didn't need her affirmative to know the answer was true. And she realized he hadn't been trying to pry the answer out- he already knew. Clever bastard. She really had underestimated the bugger.

"Interesting. I have to go now." she said simply and started to move away, letter in hand. Before she reached the door, she turned sharply and cocked her head. He was still watching her. She smiled. Poor boy. He was in over his head in too many ways. "Goodbye Draco."

* * *

"So you talked to Malfoy?" Maeve asked, picking at her teeth with a blade of grass that she'd folded over. She was lying on the grass, her Hogwarts robe opened, letting the sun tan her legs. Tans were in, and she was going to get one, Come Snape or high water. 

"Yeah. I just have to deliver a letter." To masked men in the middle of the night in the nastiest part of hogwarts. What the hell was a forest like that doing next to a school. Had the professors no sense of safety? What if some twelve year old snuck out sleepwalking and walked right into something. She was sure people had died. Students. She wondered if there were records. Was there a school tribunal that took care of student concerns like this?

"Where?" Julia asked lips pursed suspiciously. She had asked the question more than once.

"Haven't gotten the details yet." The lie rolled off easily. Her eyes dropped down to her potions homework. "So how is studying going ladies?"

"Shouldn't we be asking you that Miss- I – suck – at – class? How the hell did you get sorted into Ravenclaw?"

"Book learning is overrated."

Maeve clutched at her chest dramatic, "No Ravenclaw, say it not. Take back thy foolish words, for they wound me more sharply than love's arrow."

"I think you meant lust."

"Same thing," she said giving a saucy wink, "you get to the phallus at some point or another."

"By now you should know which point."

"Of course, and I am always willing to give you lessons."

"I don't think there is a boy alive who could handle your voracity and my curiosity."

"Hmm."

Julia rolled her eyebrows. She had her Sherlock Holmes shoved in between her Herbology textbook.

"It's a beautiful day isn't it? I never realized how beautiful Hogwarts was before. The name certainly isn't inspirational. But its got a quality about it that's so peaceful."

The wind was blowing softly against her flushed cheeks. The air smelled clean, and the bird song was sweet.

"Deep. Nature appreciation is so in this year." Maeve rolled on her back to look at the sky.

* * *

It was inevitable. At this point whatever happened happened. If they wanted to kill her, then at least Maeve and Julia knew enough to suspect Malfoy and hex off his testicles. 

She crunched on, her wand gripped loosely in her hand, and started the process. Fear is psychological. You fear nothing. You fear nothing. She chanted over and over in her mind until she felt as if she had become part of the forest. Until she had forgotten what she told Maeve and Julia earlier, because she no longer thought like a human. Part of the night so she had nothing to fear from it. Part of the creatures that roamed it. Part of their forgotten world as she had been forgotten. The chill in her hands went away and her eyes were hoarfrost.

She arrived at the circle and waited. And waited watching the mist gather around the grass leaving dew in its wake. And waited as shadows began to detach themselves from the trees. And waited as they drew closer, till a mere foot separated her from their leader.

She waited until he held out his hand and she saw the insignia burning as if it were real and then she handed over the letter. She hadn't expected the viselike grip around her wrist, or the searing pain, as the man's eyes burned like flames "He walks a fine line. Make sure he knows his side. If he plays false, I will eat his soul." Her knees buckled and tears fell down her face as she clasped her wrist. Not her wrist again. Gasping air in and out she felt her heart seize and pound unbearably hard. Explode. She felt like she was going to explode.

Air, breathe breathe breathe breathe. Consciousness in and out. Must move. Must move. She stood. And began to walk back. Walk walk walk. Shuffle fall walk. Pain. Blinding blinding pain.

* * *

Curtains were drawn back viciously and the light fell on her face. 

"Where have you been? Did you decide this was not going to class day? Do you know how many points Snape took off because he didn't see your bon visage today? 25. 25 bloody points. I know it doesn't matter because slytherin and fucking Gryffindor take first or second all the time, but come on! Losing to Hufflepuff AGAIN! I can't bear the pain and agony and seeing the snide Richard Bigglepot leering at me victoriously again and flashing the V sign my way. No way. Ugh. Its no use. She's not listening." Maeve collapsed against the bed, clutching her hand to her forehead in despair.

"You alright? You look horrible." Julia patted her head sympathetically.

"Thank you. I think I prefer Maeve's ministrations."

Her head received a light blow that felt like a chinese gong going off in her skull.

"Malfoy asked where you were. Well not exactly that caring like. He sneered about the third rat being missing."

Her eyes closed again. "Just let me sleep."

The bedroom door closed and she fell back into slumber.

It was many hours later that she woke up.

"Sleeping beauty you are not."

One bleary eye revealed Malfoy in the shadow, seated in the chair by the window.

She closed it again. It was only Malfoy.

She heard him walking around the room.

The lights started to come on and she covered her face with blankets. They were peeled off and she just had energy for a weak mumble of protest.

"I gave them the letter malfoy. They gave you a warning. Stay on their side or they'll eat you." The last she could barely hear herself say. She was so tired.

He loosely grasped her wrist. Dropped it. And walked around to the other one. And underneath, where the veins pulsed slowly, was charred skin. A round patch, roughly the size of a man's thumb. Draco fitted his over it. He drew his hand away.

"What did they do to you?"

"You lied about a." And then she closed her eyes and fell back asleep. Even her dreams weren't enough to wake her.


End file.

Harry Potter, Drama, Romance